


Lines

by ChildOfTheBarricade



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Han Solo is vulnerable and needs to talk about his feelings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Soft Han Solo, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildOfTheBarricade/pseuds/ChildOfTheBarricade
Summary: They had been sleeping in Leia's cabin on Home One, using the same refresher, and sharing the sleeping bunk in more ways than one for what must have been at least a week before Leia realised that Han never had his shirt off in front of her.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Lines

They had been sleeping in Leia's cabin on Home One, using the same refresher, and sharing the sleeping bunk in more ways than one for what must have been at least a week before Leia realised that Han _never_ had his shirt off in front of her.

He seemed to have no problem taking _her_ shirt off, but if she ever started to tug at his, he'd gently redirect her. And he was being so uncharacteristically subtle about it that she barely even noticed.

They'd fallen into physical intimacy so easily, and it felt so _right_ to finally be together in ways they'd both been imagining for years, that all sense of modesty learned during Leia's royal upbringing flew promptly out of the airlock. As long as their cabin door was sealed, she could be found inside in various states of undress, only putting her full uniform on if she had to leave the cabin. She would sit at the small workstation in her underwear, tapping away at a datapad; she would wander out of the 'fresher with a towel wrapped around her hair and nowhere else; she would laze around on the bunk, entirely nude, complaining about the meetings she'd been stuck in all day.

And Han _loved_ it. She knew he did. He would grin stupidly at her and fiddle with his hair, or not-so-subtly adjust his trousers, or sometimes he'd just openly gawk at her. But she had never once, not a single time, not even a little, seen him without a shirt on. Of course when they were in bed together, his boxers would get discarded somewhere along the way, but they were always back on him once they'd finished and his shirt never budged.

She marched down the hallway after a particularly pointless meeting one afternoon, thinking back on the years she'd known Han, and mostly thinking about his chest and whether she'd ever seen it. Occasionally while he was working on the Falcon his shirt would ride up a little, but he was always quick to tug it down again.

As she made her way back to her cabin, she decidedly ignored the entire Rogue squadron when she ran into them giggling suspiciously as they left a storage bay they had no reason to be in.

It later transpired that they were converting the barely-used bay into an unsanctioned recreation area which Han played a significant part in putting together. But in seeing them, Leia had suddenly remembered an afternoon on Aeos Prime not long after the Battle of Yavin. The Rogues, along with Han and Luke had been given a few hours off after working in the sweltering warehouse all day repairing the handful of fighters they had left.

Leia had been roped into ogling at them through one of the base's huge windows by some of the other young women. The boys had all stripped down to their Alliance-issue underpants and cavorted on the beach, dunking each other under the waves and writing swear words in the sand until Rieekan had to march down (smiling the entire time) to tell them off for enjoying themselves too much.

At the time, Leia had been so determined to dislike Han that she hadn't even looked at him until her friend Neela started complaining about how _he_ was sitting on the beach, fully clothed and not making any move to change the fact. It had seemed a little odd. But she had been trying very hard not to put much thought into the man so quickly pushed it from her mind. Now though, she decided he must be hiding something.

By the time Leia stood outside their cabin door, she knew there was nothing for it but to ask him about it. She pressed her hand to the scanning plate. The door slid open and she stepped through to find Han lounging on the bunk in his boxers and a ratty t-shirt, fiddling with a small circuitboard of some kind.

"Hey Princess," he said with a smirk, looking up from his work.

"Hey," she said slowly, toeing her boots off and starting to unpin her hair. "Can I ask you something?"

Han shrugged. "'M I in trouble?"

She chuckled and shook her head, sitting on the bunk beside him as she continued working on her hair.

"Let me," he said softly, pulling her to sit between his legs so he could take her hair down, his work-roughened hands always surprisingly gentle.

"It's not a big deal, I've just been wondering something," she said, starting to feel a bit stupid, or as if she was somehow invading his privacy.

Han grunted around the hairpins he was holding in his mouth as he continued pulling more from her head.

Leia took a deep breath. "Why don't you ever take your shirt off?"

Han's hands stilled in her hair and he pulled away slightly, taking the pins from his mouth and carefully setting them on the shelf above the bunk. "Uh," he said slowly. "I do take it off."

Leia sighed and swivelled to face him, reaching for his hands and giving them a squeeze. "But not in front of me. Or anyone else."

Han looked at their entwined hands. "I ah…I've got a lot of scars. On my back," he said. "I didn't wanna…" he shrugged. "I didn't want you to see."

"I have scars on my back," Leia frowned, thinking of him carefully tracing his fingers over the small pin-prick scars along her spine only that morning.

Han shook his head. "Mine are…" he trailed off, still not looking up at her. "Worse," he finished lamely.

"Hey," Leia said softly, tucking a finger under his chin and gently lifting his head so she could meet his eyes. "I'm not going to make you show me. You can keep your shirt on for the next fifty years if that's what you want." He smirked at that and she kissed him. "But," she said firmly. "I'm not going to judge you for your scars, Han. And if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to do that either."

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said decisively, pulling away from her and letting go of her hands. But before she had the chance to feel disappointed, he started slowly pulling his shirt off over his head. He held the shirt in his lap and looked at her, his jaw tight. "Do you want to see?" He asked quietly.

Leia gave him a small smile. "Only if you want to show me."

Han thought for a moment before nodding and laying down, swivelling to lie on his stomach. Long, silvery-pink lines covered his back, some stretching around the sides of his ribs. Many of the scars were narrow and faded, but some were thick and ropey, clearly having healed badly or slowly. They overlapped and doubled over on themselves, with some patches of his skin completely covered in scar tissue.

Han had pressed his face into the pillows so he couldn't see her, but Leia still steeled herself against any outward reaction as she took it all in.

Eventually, she spoke.

"Can I touch you?"

Han nodded, but didn't speak, his face still hidden in the pillows. Leia lay down beside him and reached a hand out, gently running it down his spine. She kissed his shoulder and snuggled close.

"Did you think it would change anything, Han?" She asked quietly, her hand still running over his skin, not following the scars, just gently rubbing his back.

He sighed and lay quietly for a moment before finally turning his head to face her. "I dunno. I just… There's so much I don't want you to know. But at the same time… Part of me wants to tell you. I've never… Felt like this about anyone before."

"Neither have I," Leia said softly, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

Han felt himself relax slightly under her touch. "Nobody's ever seen them before. 'Cept Chewie."

"Well thank you for showing me," she smiled, kissing his nose. "Will you finish my hair now please?"

Han chuckled and nodded, sitting up and pulling her towards him as he started working on her hair again. "I dunno why you need so many pins, sweetheart."

"Well it falls out otherwise and I look dishevelled by midday."

Han pulled out the last of the pins and started gently undoing her braid. "They're just from whips," he mumbled. "But some of 'em got infected, and some of 'em didn't heal right, and some of 'em stretched when I grew."

Leia had firmly decided that she wouldn't ask him any questions, that she'd let him give her information as he felt comfortable. Until he said, 'when I grew'. "What do you mean?" She asked softly, turning to face him. "What do you mean 'when you grew'?"

He sighed and gently took her shoulders, turning her away from him again and continuing to fiddle with her hair, although it was now completely down. "I got 'em when I was a kid. Over a few years. When I grew they stretched funny." He grabbed her brush from the shelf and started to carefully run it through her hair.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"The hell are you sorry for?" He said with a small frown. "Listen… I didn't have a nice childhood. It's not something I like thinkin' about. But if you wanna know, you can ask me. Whatever you want," he said, putting the brush down and pulling her to his chest.

Leia pulled her own shirt off so she could feel his bare skin against hers, and curled up in his arms. "Who hurt you?" She asked, gently tracing his face with her fingers.

Han sighed and rested his head on top of hers. "I belonged to this slaver. Shrike. He was… he ran a tight ship. And I don't like people tellin' me what to do."

Leia smiled fondly and stretched up to kiss him. "Were you an orphan?"

He closed his eyes. "You mean, how did I end up with a slaver?"

Leia nodded and ran a gentle hand up and down his arm.

"After my Ma died… My father didn't want… He sold me," Han said quietly. "For sixteen credits. 'Cause I was eight-years-old," he explained, his voice shaking slightly.

She curled closer to him, letting him hold her as she took it all in.

"We're not our fathers, Leia," he murmured into her hair. "What they did to us changed us. But it won't turn us into them. You hear me?"

Leia looked up at him and smiled. "I hear you." She pressed her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and carefully tracing the thick scar tissue with her fingers. "Han?"

"Mm," he hummed.

"Thank you for letting me in."


End file.
